


Noise Makers

by Lyri



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3568391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyri/pseuds/Lyri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is so tired when he comes home from work, so tired, in fact, that he doesn't see Derek sitting in the hallway and promptly trips over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noise Makers

**Author's Note:**

> So, this all started with this fic idea/plot bunny that was running around on Tumblr - 'I've been sexiled and I need somewhere to hang out' - and this sort of happened, lol. It wasn't what I originally planned, but I'm happy with it anyway.
> 
> Once again, un-beta'd, because I don't know anyone in this fandom, lol.

It’s late when Stiles finally gets home from the bar, almost three in the morning, and he’s so tired he’s literally struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

The bar had been so crazy, crazier than Stiles has ever seen it in the eight months he’s worked there. Which probably has something to do with the fact that Stiles has never worked later than nine o’clock before tonight, but they were short staffed – Isaac had called in sick – and his boss had asked him to work a double shift and Stiles really isn’t in a position to say ‘no’, he needs the money. Plus, he’s just… he sucks at saying ‘no’ when people ask for help, it’s a character flaw, sue him.

It’s left him completely dead on his feet, though, and he just wants to crawl into his nice, comfy bed and sleep for the next twelve hours, because tomorrow is Sunday and he has the whole day to himself.

The lobby of his building is bright, too bright for this hour of the night, and Stiles squints against it as he makes his way to the elevators.

He yawns hugely, his jaw cracking, and promptly trips over something lying in the middle of the hallway and falls flat on his face.

“Ouch,” he mumbles to the ugly brown carpet and he thinks his phone is now lying somewhere over near the plastic fern that sits in the corner.

“Sorry,” someone says from somewhere that’s probably behind him and they sound neither sorry nor concerned about Stiles’ pain.

Stiles rolls over onto his back and props himself up on his elbows so that he can see what – or _who_ , apparently – he tripped over and he has to blink several times to understand what he’s seeing.

There’s a guy sitting against the wall, reading a worn and battered book with his legs spread out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He doesn’t even look up at Stiles as he turns a page, clearly engrossed in the story.

It’s the guy that Stiles has been seeing in the parking lot lately, the guy that Stiles struggles to keep his eyes off of, the guy who has frequently been the star of Stiles’ fantasies. 

The guy Stiles knows is way, way out of his league. But he likes to look.

“Dude!” Stiles’ exclaims, because it’s late and he doesn’t have the best filter even when he is properly fed, hydrated and rested. “You realize that this is a public access space, right? You can’t just turn it into your own personal library, people need to get to the elevators and they shouldn’t have to fall over your legs to do it.”

“One,” the guy says, his eyes moving over the page almost hypnotically, “I didn’t really think anyone would be in the hallway at two o’clock in the morning, so I wasn’t expecting to be in anyone’s way. And two, I like to think that I’m at least big enough that people can see me and therefore not trip over me.”

“It’s actually closer to three than two,” Stiles says and flops back down again. “And fuck, I think I’m so tired right now that I’m hearing colors so I shouldn’t really be blamed for falling over the ridiculously good-looking guy camped out next to the elevators.”

Yeah, Stiles’ filter has left the building. Or maybe it’s just gone to sleep.

The guy chuckles, though, so Stiles tries not to let his embarrassment eat him alive.

“I’m Stiles,” he says, his eyes still trained on the ceiling.

“Stiles?” the guy repeats, like Stiles’ name is honestly confusing. “There’s no ‘Stiles’ on any of the buzzers.”

“That’s because the landlord won’t let me change it. My name is a monstrosity that should not be inflicted on the good people like yourself who live in this building. Or anyone for that matter.”

“Wait, you’re…” the guy trails off, like he doesn’t even know where to start with Stiles’ real name.

Stiles snorts. “Trust me, just don’t even try. I do not need people butchering my real name any more than it already has been. The mailman still tries to use it and I swear it’s like breaking glass every time the sound comes out of his mouth.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, no, you are not going to get me with that line. I know every trick in the book, mister. I probably invented most of them.”

“Cocky little shit,” the guy mumbles but it’s said with affection so Stile doesn’t take too much offense.

He props himself up on his elbows again. The guy’s still reading. “Anyway, do you have a name or am I just going to have to call you ‘Book Guy’ for the entirety of our interaction and during any other interaction we may have since we have bonded over out very trying time sitting next to the elevator bank?”

There’s a tick in the guy’s jaw and his mouth turns up a little at the corner. “I’m Derek.”

Stiles makes a face as he contemplates the name. “I like it.”

Derek laughs. “Oh, good. I was so worried that you wouldn’t and I can die happy now that I know that Stiles likes my name.”

“You’re a little bit of an asshole, you know that?”

Derek nods. “It has been said. Most recently, about two and half hours ago.”

“Have you been sitting out here for two and a half hours?” Derek shrugs his shoulders and Stiles takes that to mean ‘I think so’. “Why?”

“My roommate has apparently made it his mission to bang my little sister through any stable surface, be it vertical or horizontal, and my little sister is apparently loving every goddamn second of it, as her cries of ecstasy prove.”

Stiles winces. “Oh, God. I mean, I’m an only child so I don’t really know what that’s like, but I can imagine it would be…awkward to, um, hear that.”

“Yeah, hence me currently camping out next to the elevators.” Derek looks up at him, finally, and wow, pretty.

“Thanks, I guess.” Derek looks away again and did Stiles say that out loud? There aren’t words for the level of exhausted Stiles is, his filter has apparently just died.

“So, are you just gonna sit out here?” Stiles asks, because the whole thing seems really…weird to him. “Why don’t you just…go to a diner or _Denney’s_ or something? They stay open all night, right?”

“I went down to the laundry room to switch my stuff over to the drier and when I came back up, they were making the bedroom door shake ominously, so I just turned around and ran away.” Derek waves his book in the air. “I found this next to the mailboxes.”

Stiles twists his head a little to see the title. It’s Jane Austin’s _Emma_. The whole situation makes Stiles laugh loudly. “So you’re just gonna sit here?” he repeats, because Derek hasn’t actually answered that question.

“I don’t really want to go back up there, just in case they’re not finished. I’ve been traumatized enough for one evening, thanks.”

“You could…” Stiles starts, but then he cuts himself off because the offer on the tip of his tongue is probably a step too far so soon in their tentative friendship.

But then again, the idea of Derek sitting out here alone all night, where anyone can just come and trip over him and what if the next guy who trips over him isn’t as nice at Stiles and takes offence at Derek tripping him? Sure, Derek looks like the kind of guy who could take care of himself if anyone decided that they really wanted to punch him, but he’s probably tired after sitting here for so long and his reaction times are probably not as good as they should be and Stiles is rambling inside his own head, isn’t he?

“I could what?” Derek asks when Stiles doesn’t say anything more and he decides to just go for it.

“You could crash on my couch?” he phrases it like a question because Derek doesn’t look like the person who appreciates choices being taken out of his hands and wow, that’s a very deep thought for the level of tired Stiles is and the hour of the night. “I mean, I don’t have a guest room, but I have the most awesome couch, and I’m probably just gonna go in and fall asleep on the first horizontal surface I come across, but I promise that you can have the couch if you want it. At least it’s softer than sitting out here on the floor. And it’ll probably be warmer, too.”

Derek actually seems to be considering the offer which makes Stiles’ insides do all sort of twisty things, but it’s not like anything is going to happen. Stiles meant it when he said he was going to fall asleep.

In fact, if he doesn’t move soon, he’s going to fall asleep on the floor right next to Derek and they’ll both have to spend the night in the hallway and more people will probably trip over Stiles than Derek.

“Sure,” Derek says finally, folding down the corner of the page of his book he’s currently on. Apparently he likes it enough to want to continue. Go figure, Derek’s a fan of the classics. “At least this way I might actually get some sleep.”

He gets to his feet, all graceful movements, like liquid, and Stiles just watches, because God, is he actually a walking piece of art or what?

“Are you coming?” Derek asks, looking down at him and wow, loaded question. “I don’t know where you apartment is and you kind of have the keys anyway.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, looking around him, “I should probably get up off the floor, huh?”

Derek chuffs a laugh and that sounds nice, and then he reaches out a hand and grabs hold of Stiles and pulls him to his feet.

“My phone went that way.” He points and Derek chuffs another one of those nice laughs and retrieves the phone from the floor next to the fern. That thing is so ugly.

There’s a Facebook message from Scott about videos games the following night but Stiles fully expects to still be asleep at that point. He calls in a rain check and shoves the phone in his back pocket.

“Sorry,” he says as he pushes the button to call the elevator, “I’ve been at work since, like, noon or something insane like that. I’m kinda running on fumes right now and it’s making my stupid even more obvious. Normally I can keep it in check around hot people until they either run away from my face or we’re on the fifth date and the haze of whatever made them agree to go out with me in the first place has dissipated thanks to my ability to blurt out the first thing that comes into my head.”

Derek grunts, but he doesn’t comment, just looks at Stiles out of the corner of his eye and rocks back on his heels.

“Where do you work?” Derek asks when the elevator arrives and they shuffle their way into the car.

“Um, at a bar downtown. _The Bunker_? We were seriously understaffed tonight because one of my friends called in sick and my boss asked me to work a double. I’ve never been there until closing before and I was so not ready for that.”

“Tips must be good though, right? I’ve been to _The Bunker_ a few times, I know how busy and crazy it can get.”

Stiles thinks about the wad of notes stuffed into his wallet and manages a smile. Yeah, he did well.

The elevator dings and Stiles realizes they’ve reached his floor and he leads the way out and turns right, digging the keys out of the pocket of his coat as he makes his way towards his apartment.

He has a moment of panic, wondering how clean or not his home is. But then he decides that it’s after three in the morning and he just doesn’t have the energy to care.

At least the couch seems to be free of clutter, so he doesn’t have to deal with that.

“Welcome to my humble abode or whatever,” he mumbles as he turns on the light and, once again, way too bright. “I’ll get you some pillows and sheets and shit.” Words are hard.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he turns around to see Derek looking at him with more concern than Stiles thinks the situation warrants.

“Just…go to bed,” he says slowly, like that wasn’t what he wanted to say at all. “I can find whatever I need.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asks, because he feels like a shitty host and his dad raised him better than that.

“Completely. Go. You look like you’re about to fall off your feet.”

Stiles isn’t going to argue anymore. He bids Derek good night and heads for his bedroom, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he face plants on his bed.

He’s asleep before he can even get his shoes off.

<*>

Stiles wakes up the next morning in nothing but his t-shirt and boxers, his jeans on the chair by the window, shoes set neatly underneath it, phone on his nightstand, plugged into the charger. The door to his bedroom is closed and his head is resting on his favorite pillow, the blankets pulled up around his chin.

It’s all very disconcerting.

He knows he left the door open, he knows his shoes and jeans were still on when he crashed, which means that Derek, at some point, came into Stiles’ room, undressed him and put him under the bedclothes so that he could get a good, proper night’s sleep.

Yeah, disconcerting’s a good word. There are other words that Stiles would like to use, like _creepy_ and _weird_ , but he’s choosing not to be completely judgmental first thing in the morning and giving Derek the benefit of the doubt.

Alright, first thing in the afternoon, then.

Derek’s still sleeping when he goes out to the living room.

He’s curled up in a ball in the corner of Stiles’ sectional couch, a black blanket that Stiles doesn’t remember owning pulled up to his ears and his book resting next to him.

He looks small on the couch somehow and Stiles knows that that’s his couch’s fault. The thing is huge and it took Stiles a year to save up for it. It’s too big for the size of the living room but Stiles thinks it’s worth the investment just to see Derek asleep on it.

He snaps a picture with his cellphone. If Derek can be creepy, so can Stiles.

No, not creepy, he’s not supposed to be using that word. He needs coffee.

Sties has just switched on the coffee maker when there’s a loud and obnoxious noise practically screaming in the living room that Stiles assumes is supposed to be some kind of song. It’s definitely not to his tastes, but it’s coming from Derek’s cellphone and Derek flails so hard at being woken up by the noise that he falls off the couch. Stiles snorts loudly.

Derek fumbles around for his phone, finding it under the couch and answers it with an angry ‘what?’ as he rubs at his eyes. Stiles wonders if he’s still asleep.

“Of course I’m not there, you moron. You think I actually wanted to hang around there last night and listen to the two of you trying to break the sound barrier with your moaning and groaning and screaming?” 

Stiles clicks his fingers and waves his arms in the air like an idiot until Derek looks over when he’s listening to whoever’s on the other end of the line. Stiles holds up a coffee cup and points at Derek – the universal sign in Stiles World for ‘do you want coffee?’ Derek nods his head, looking grateful and goes back to the call.

“Trust me, you were still going at it when I tried to go home at five o’clock this morning. I’m surprised you’re even functioning.”

Wow, Derek’s roommate and sister definitely have stamina. Stiles is a little jealous. He hasn’t exactly had the chemistry with someone to go all night long. Even his one night stands barely hang around for an hour.

What a fucking depressing morning. Afternoon. Whatever. Shut up.

“What? Why do you even care where I am? It’s not like you cared last night when you and Isaac started undressing each other right in front of me.” Derek pauses as he listens to his caller. “I was in the kitchen! I watched you shove your hands down Isaac’s pants!”

“Isaac?” Stiles says to himself as he pours the coffee now that it’s finally ready, leaving Derek’s on the counter for him with some cream and sugar.

Derek sighs. “Alright, fine.” He looks up, like he’s asking for help, “I spent the night in a friend’s apartment. Want do you mean, what friend? A friend.” He rolls his eyes. “Stiles, okay? His name is Stiles, he lives downstairs.”

“Stiles?” Stiles can hear the girl scream his name over the line even though Derek is all the way on the other side of the room and them Derek is looking down at his phone like he doesn’t know why his sister hung up on him.

“Dude, I don’t think your sister is too happy that you slept here,” Stiles says. He’s trying to be lighthearted, but he’s honestly a little upset by the whole thing. Someone he hasn’t even met dislikes him enough to be upset over the fact that her brother slept on his couch. Great.

Derek shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t….don’t really understand why she would-”

He’s cut off by a loud banging at the front door, like someone is hammering their fists against the door and Stiles really doesn’t want to open it, but he takes a deep breath, sets down his coffee and crosses the room.

The woman on the other side of the threshold is both very out of breath and very familiar.

“Cora?!” Stiles squawks, but Cora just pushes past him into the living room.

“You didn’t tell me it was Stiles!” she yells at Derek, punching his shoulder.

“I didn’t know his name!” Derek protests. “How do you even know him?”

“Cora and I went to high school together,” Stiles explains. “She actually helped me get this apartment, told me it was available.”

“He’s my friend.” Cora punches Derek again. “You should have told me. I would have helped.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Please, I don’t need help from my sister.”

Stiles is completely confused by this whole conversation, and he can’t help but feel like he’s missing a huge part of it, the part that would make it all make sense.

“Clearly,” Cora says and she throws a huge grin at Stiles.

But Derek shakes his head almost minutely and points behind him. “I slept on the couch.”

Cora’s grin fades. “Oh.” She sounds both confused and annoyed and she whirls on Stiles like it’s his fault.

“Leave it, Cora. He doesn’t know anything.”

Stiles nods in agreement. “Seriously, I know absolutely nothing about what is going on right now.”

“Derek!” Cora practically screams the word, her long dark flying around her as she rounds on her brother again.

“It’s not important. Cora, can we just go? I’m sure Stiles would like his couch back at some point today.”

Stiles scoffs. “Dude, that couch is plenty big enough for the both of us. It’s my pride and joy.”

Cora raises her eyebrows at Derek in a way that Stiles is sure is supposed to be significant. “Yeah, Derek, that couch is Stiles’ baby and he’s willing to share it with you.”

Derek smiles. “I’d rather go home and shower at least.” He narrows his eyes at his sister. “That is if you and Isaac are done making disgusting noises.”

Cora squeaks and Stiles’ eyes grow wide with realization.

“Isaac? Your roommate is Isaac? Isaac Lahey?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Cora! Isaac faked being sick last night to get out of work so that the two of you could fuck all night long?!”

“I just…it’s new, Stiles, we were just…”

“Cora, I had to cover for him! I was worried about him! I worked fourteen hours yesterday because I felt sorry for Isaac being sick and the two of you were banging all night and not giving a fuck about anyone else!”

“Stiles-”

“Derek was gonna sleep in the goddamn hallway!”

Cora stares at her brother. “Seriously?”

Derek shrugs. “You’re really loud, Cora. Brothers don’t really want to hear their baby sisters screaming in ecstasy all night long.”

Cora blushes but she turns a grin on Stiles. “He’s really good in bed.”

Derek snorts. “The bed, the wall, the kitchen counter apparently. I’m never going to be able to make food in my apartment again.”

Stiles wants to extend an open invitation for Derek to use his kitchen, but he doesn’t know if it’s the right time. He’s only really known Derek for less than twelve hours.

Maybe after a few weeks, if they hang out again. At least Stiles knows which apartment is Derek’s now.

“I need a shower and some food,” Derek says and he grabs his blanket that he obviously grabbed when he went back to see if the coast was clear and heads for the door.

Stiles wonders to himself if Derek can’t sleep without the blanket in the same way that Stiles can’t sleep without his pillow.

He doesn’t have time to ask, though, because Derek is already gone.

“You owe me, Cora,” Stiles say, pointing a finger at Cora where she’s still hovering in the doorway. “You and Isaac both.”

Cora winks. “Maybe Isaac can cover for you if, you know, you find someone you want to spend all day having sex with.”

Stiles has already found that someone. He just walked out the door.

<*>

Eight hours later, Stiles has just finished dinner when his cellphone rings. ‘The Bunker’ flashes across his screen along with a very unflattering photo of Chris Argent, Stiles’ boss.

Stiles looks at the ceiling, towards where he now knows Derek and Isaac’s apartment is. He doesn’t even have to answer the phone to know that Isaac has called out again to spend the night with Cora.

Isaac had paid Stiles a visit earlier, spewing apologies and promising favors and his undying gratitude and vowing that it will never happen again.

Stiles knows that if he answers his phone, what Isaac owes him will increase exponentially, because Stiles is unable to say ‘no’ when someone asks him to do something, especially when the person asking is Chris Argent.

Stiles lets the call go to voicemail, then deletes the voicemail without even listening to it. It’s supposed to be Stiles’ day off and he worked a double shift the day before. He doesn’t have the energy to stand behind a noisy bar and pour drinks for people who are too drunk to remember their manners.

He should really start looking for a new job, something that’s at least marginally related to his degree – if he can even remember what his degree is actually in, it’s been such a long time since he’s thought about it. He fails at life.

Stiles turns his phone off once he’s dealt with the message, smiling to himself when the photo of Derek sleeping on the couch fades into blackness.

Alright, so maybe he’s a little bit of a creeper for having a picture of a guy he barely knows as his phone’s background, but it’s a cute picture and Stiles’ doesn’t even care.

He sets the phone on the coffee table and settles back into his awesome couch, ready for the _Psych_ marathon he’s been looking forward to since last night.

But a knock on the door interrupts him before the teaser is even finished on the first episode and he groans loudly as he hauls himself to his feet.

Derek is standing on the other side of the door, looking nervous and unsure of himself and Stiles is instantly concerned.

“Derek? What is it? Has something happened?”

“I wasn’t sitting in the hallway to avoid Cora and Isaac’s sex noises,” Derek says in one long breath. He flinches. “I mean, I was, when you found me. When you came home, that’s why I was sitting there.”

“When I tripped over you,” Stiles corrects with a grin.

“Tripped…yes. But…but that’s not why I went to sit out there in the first place.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “You said you were doing laundry before you went back to the apartment and found them.”

“No, I was…” Derek takes a deep breath. “I didn’t know your name or which apartment you lived in. Before last night, I mean, and I didn’t want to give Cora any more ammo to tease me with by asking her for help.”

“You were…you were waiting for me?” Stiles asks slowly, trying to figure out exactly what Derek is saying. “Did…did I do something wrong? Park in your space or something?

“What? No!” Derek blanches. “No, that’s not…I wanted to talk to you. Maybe see if you wanted to…to have dinner with me.”

“ _WHAT_?!” Stiles yells, slapping a hand over his mouth after his outburst.

“Or coffee?” Derek adds lamely, like he knows things aren’t going his way and he’s steeling himself for rejection, like he’s used to the feeling.

Stiles wants to wrap him up in his blanket and never let him go.

He blinks. “You want to go out with me? _You_ want to have dinner with _me_?”

“Yes? Why is that…do you not want that?”

“No!” Stiles gushes and Derek’s face falls and he takes a step back. “I mean, yes! Yes, I want that, I want that a lot. I very much want to do that with you.”

Derek smiles, a small, pleased grin, then he frowns. “Then why…what’s…”

“Well, you’re you and I’m me and don’t really…match.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, people might think I’m…punching about my weight?”

Derek’s eyes widen. “You think I’m dating down by wanting to go out with you?”

“Yes.”

“Stiles, you’re…you’re amazing, you so…I’ve liked you for a long time. I just…I’ve had some problems in the past so I was scared to…to try something new.”

“So what changed last night?”

Derek shrugs. “I started wondering how I would feel if you started dating someone else when I just stayed back and decided to do nothing about my feelings for you. I decided I didn’t want to…to lose that chance to be with you.”

Stiles grins. “Do you want to come in? We can talk some more about your feelings for me and my feelings for you and how I’m really glad you had the balls to ask me out when I probably never would have had the balls to ask you out.”

Derek blushes again and he casts his eyes to the floor. Stiles follows his gaze and takes a moment to notice that he’s not wearing any shoes, like he ran out of his apartment in a hurry.

“Are Cora and Isaac making noises again?”

Derek laughs, a short burst of sound that Stiles wants to hear again and again. “Yeah, Isaac came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel just as Cora came through the front door. I never should have given her a key.”

Stiles nods. “I thought they might be. The bar called, probably to ask me to cover Isaac’s shift. I didn’t pick up.”

Derek smiles. “Not really your responsibility, is it? To cover for Isaac for being a flake?”

“That is exactly what I was thinking,” Stiles says with a nod. His eyes go back to Derek’s bare feet. “So, uh, have you been sitting in the hallway avoiding them again?”

Derek blushes as he smiles. “Actually…yes, I didn’t know if…I didn’t know if last night was a onetime offer or…”

“Derek, I am hereby informing you have you have a free pass to come and hang out in my apartment any time you want to. I’ll even get you your own key in case you need to be here while I’m at work. And let me tell you, the idea of you being here, waiting for me when I get home? Yeah, that’s something I’m going to have to spend some time thinking about.”

Derek takes a step forward, his eyes darkening as they rake over Stiles’ body. “Yeah?”

“You wanna come in and make some noises of our own?”

Derek’s smile is blinding, bright and charming and the most beautiful thing Stiles has ever seen and he surges forward and kisses Stiles deeply and completely.

Stiles kisses back for all he’s worth and fumbles to shut the door.


End file.
